


Heat Wave

by Chrislee



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrislee/pseuds/Chrislee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

Buffy was hot. The air in her room was stifling; the fan whirred ineffectually beside her. She pressed the sweaty glass of water to her forehead relishing the momentary coolness. The ice clinked and stilled. Dipping her fingers into the glass, she hooked a cube and rubbed it over the edge of her chin, down her throat, across the swell of her breasts where they were visible above her tank top. Before long the ice had melted and even the tiny trickles of water had dried on her skin.

She leaned over and adjusted the fan, tilting it slightly so that it lifted the tendrils of damp hair from her face. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“It’s hot.”

Faith’s voice behind her.

“Obvious much?” Buffy said crankily.

She turned her head and opened one eye when Faith plopped down beside her.

“Do you think you could put on something more appropriate, Faith?”

“What for? It’s hotter than hell. There’s no one here besides us girls. And it’s not like you haven’t seen me in my panties before, B,” Faith said. The way she said ‘panties’ made the word seem lewd. Panties might be a misnomer in this case, anyway.

Buffy turned her face back to the fan and closed her eyes.

“We’re alone now,” she said, “but Angel’ll be here any moment now and I don’t want you parading around like some two bit…”

“Relax. I’ll get respectable as soon as I hear the doorbell.”

“It’s gonna take more than putting on some clothes to make you respectable,” Buffy said, though her lips curled into a tiny smile.

Faith reached for Buffy’s glass and took a gulp of water. The ice was gone now and already the water had begun its climb to room temperature.

“I’m gonna get some more ice,” Faith said.

Buffy turned to watch her sashay into the kitchen. She shook her head. Did Faith really think Buffy didn’t know what she was up to? Did Faith really expect her to believe that her choice of thong underwear and a practically see through tankini wasn’t the most obvious and blatantly sexual overture Faith had made yet?

She heard the freezer door open and the crisp crack of the ice tray as Faith twisted it to pop out some new cubes for the glass. Buffy turned back to the fan, running her hand over the messy knot of hair on the top of her head.

She felt the ice on the back of her neck and realized that Faith must have made her return to the living room with a certain degree of stealth. She pressed back against the cube, felt a delicious trickle of water run down her back. Then, ice along her shoulders, her collarbone, further down her chest. Faith slipped the sliver of ice down between the valley of her breasts and Buffy felt her nipples tighten.

Faith’s fingers pushed at the front of Buffy’s tank until her tits were exposed. Then, Buffy felt the ice again, circling the flushed areolae, the sharp edge of the ice dragging carelessly across the sensitive peaks.

“Faith. No.” Buffy reached up, grasping Faith’s slender wrist, stilling her hand.

“Relax, B. I’m just tryin’ to take the edge off.”

“The edge off what?” Buffy said.

Faith laughed. Buffy let go of her wrist and waited. The doorbell startled them both.

“Shit,” Buffy said, yanking her tank top back up over her nakedness. “Are you going to put something on?”

Faith shrugged.

Buffy groaned and walked over to the front door. Angel stood there, smiling.

“Just like clockwork: the sun goes down, Angel comes out.”

“Ignore her,” Buffy said, taking Angel’s hand and pulling him into the house. “She’s in a mood.”

Angel’s eyes swept over Faith

“Hot day,” he said.

“You can feel it?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah.”

Angel leaned down and kissed Buffy, but his eyes met Faith’s. She smiled and cupped her breasts, offering them up like some scrumptious treat. Angel stepped away from Buffy.

“Did I interrupt something?” Angel asked.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Angel’s lips twitched.

Buffy walked back over to the couch and settled in front of the fan.

“She’s just pissy because it’s so hot,” Faith said. “I mean, no mistaking it’s hot, but I kinda like it.” Her dark eyes raked over Angel who looked cool and unflustered by the heat. Obviously.

“I am not pissy,” Buffy mumbled.

Angel glided over to the couch and stood behind Buffy. She could feel his cool fingers trailing along the nape of her neck, could feel the resulting goosebumps despite the heat.

“Are you okay,” he whispered.

“Yes. It’s just hot and I haven’t been sleeping.” She dropped her voice to a theatrical whisper. “Faith is driving me crazy.”

“You could always just give in to her,” Angel said.

Buffy twisted her head to look back at Angel. “That’s a joke, right?”

“I bet, if you just relaxed, you wouldn’t even be able to tell.”

“Mumph,” Buffy spluttered. “Between you and her? As if!”

“Scared?” Faith said from across the room.

“I’m not afraid,” Buffy said.

“Get a scarf or something,” Angel said to Faith.

“You’re not tying me up!” Buffy squeaked.

“No,” Angel said. “It’ll just be an experiment.”

“Angel. You can’t be serious.”

Faith returned with a black silk scarf in one hand and a pair of handcuffs dangling from the fingers of the other. “In case you get out of control.” She handed the scarf to Angel and he tied it around Buffy’s head. Faith’s mocking smile disappeared from view.

Buffy waited for her Slayer senses to kick in. She could smell Faith’s musky perfume. Angel smelled of nothing, but even that was peculiar to him. She felt his smooth palm against hers and then she was on her feet.

“Here,” Angel said.

For a moment Buffy was disoriented. She felt fingers (his? hers?) at her shorts, dragging her tank up over her head, careful not to dislodge the blindfold. She felt vulnerably naked standing in the middle of the room (living room? dining room?) in nothing but her panties.

The air moved around her. The fan: someone had moved it closer and it felt delicious against her damp skin. Someone sighed close to her ear.

And then Angel was kissing her. She knew it was him, knew the particular slant of his lips, the cool tongue curling around her teeth, reaching for her. She knew it was him because, as always, the pit of her stomach dropped away when his lips met hers.

As he kissed her he moved her backwards and suddenly she was sitting on something soft.

“Lie back,” Angel murmured against her mouth.

The chaise, Buffy thought.

Someone (him? her?) divested Buffy of her panties and she sucked in a breath. The air around her seemed to have a life of its own, so full of tension, of promise, of energy.

“So beautiful, B.” Faith’s voice, far away.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then, Angel’s long fingers traveled up the length of her calf, along her thigh, skimmed over the coarse hair, a neat triangle, covering her sex. Buffy felt her hips left off the chaise, seeking more intimate contact with Angel’s hand.

His fingers moved up the flat plane of her stomach, hovered over her nipples, floating just there, not quite touching her. Buffy swallowed, her throat dry. Someone pressed a chip of ice against her lips and she arched up, her tongue reaching out to receive it.

Buffy's skin hummed with expectation. She couldn't see, true, but every other sense was heightened and she waited anxiously for something, anything (please, God!) to happen.

Ice down over her pouting bottom lip, down into the tender hollow of her throat, up over the swell of her breast, poised for a second to peak her nipple and then down into the hair between her legs. Too small at that point to cause any real reaction.

"Spread your legs."

Angel's quiet voice.

Buffy did as she was told, aware that two people would be watching, excited immeasurably by the prospect.

"You're wet."

That was Faith, her voice was carefully unemotional. Buffy couldn't tell where she was.

"Touch yourself, Buffy."

Faith again.

Buffy hesitated, her fingers curling up into her palms, nails biting into the flesh there.

"Do it Buffy."

Angel.

Buffy slid her finger carefully along her slit, added a second finger and rubbed her clit as if she were all alone in her room, thinking about Angel...the one and only thought which could get her off without effort: Angel's chest, Angel's broad hands, Angel slit-eyed with lust, Angel's cock.

"Jesus," Buffy whispered.

Someone batted away her hand and she felt something cool slide into her. Smooth. She started to shiver, felt her hips buck up to meet the thick, measured thrusts. Hands on her ass, pulling her closer. A sharp tug at her nipples. Lips against hers. A moan: hers.

The timing was perfect: when Buffy began to come, she came without anything touching her. The cool cock disappeared leaving her cunt empty and grasping rhythmically, the hands left her breasts; she came hard. She came screaming.

She barely had time to recover when someone's mouth was on her moist quim, fingers twisting and pulling her sensitive nipples, a tongue was thrust possessively into her mouth. Despite having just come, Buffy could feel the slow roll of another orgasm radiating outwards: her fingers tingled, her heart beat restlessly in her clit.

"Come for me, Buffy," Faith said.

Fingers inside her, slender fingers,curling up: reaching up into the very center of her.

Buffy moaned, pushing down against the hand inside her. She shuddered around the fingers.

"No more," she whispered.

"Where's that Slayer stamina, B?" Faith laughed.

"Fuck off, Faith."

Faith laughed.

Gentle hands rolled Buffy over, pulling her up so that she was on all fours.

"Angel?"

"Shhh."

Hands smoothed her back, trailed along her spine, traced the dimples at the top of her ass, probed the puckered hole in her backside. Buffy flinched inwardly. Something warm and slippery slid along her crack. Buffy felt someone's hands at her shoulder blades, holding her in place, pushing her down. She had never felt more exposed, more excited.

She felt the smooth tip of something press against her, in and out, just a little at a time and Buffy began to relax. A little further; the ring of muscles rejecting and then relaxing to allow the dildo to slide into her.

"It's too much," she moaned.

The fan whirred and below that sound, another buzzing. A mouth on her breast, motion against her clit and Buffy felt like she could fly.

The third orgasm hit with as much force as the first and when the humming in her head stopped, Buffy reached up to remove the blindfold.

"Not just yet," Angel said. He sounded distant.

Someone removed the dildo from her ass. Someone wiped her sticky thighs. Someone offered her a sip of water. Someone sucked her nipple; she felt it pebble against a cool tongue.

Then she was on her back, her knees pushed up to her chest, and she was entered again. The position tightened her passage, made the way tighter. Hands on the backs of her thighs, holding her down, fingers plucking at her distended clit. She couldn't come again. But there, there it was...just beyond the dizzying sensations.

"Oh..." she moaned, biting into her lower lip. "Oh my God."

She bit harder, felt the saltcopper taste of her blood and suddenly there he was, his mouth pressed against hers, sweetly sucking her torn lip. She exploded beneath him, wave after wave of endorphins flooding through her.

Buffy reached up and pulled off the blindfold.

Angel was smiling serenely at her. Faith, was at the foot of the chaise. She arched one superior eyebrow and said: "Well?"

Buffy pushed herself up onto her elbows and replied, "Faith, you know perfectly well Angel just likes to watch."

THE END


End file.
